I May Hate Myself in the Morning
by cornfedfiddler
Summary: Babe one shot based on a challenge from MomofPhoenix, with content/thematic material from LeAnn Womack's "I May Hate Myself in the Morning". Stephanie's day starts out crappy and hits a crescendo when Morelli breaks things off... again. Characters belong to Janet Evanovich. Song lyrics belong to LeAnn Womack.


They say life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get. I'm not sure who "they" are, but apparently they're right. As far as my day was concerned, I had bit into a chocolate covered Brussel sprout.

In case clarification is needed, vegetables aren't high on my list of favorite things. They are situated directly between flat tires and butt stuff. Ew.

My name is Stephanie Plum, and I squish 122 pounds of tenacity, grit, perseverance, and Jersey sass into my 5'7" frame daily.

Okay, 130 pounds tops.

When I woke up this morning and shuffled into the bathroom, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. My clothes were fitting looser than they had the night before, and my hair wasn't total fright night. I thought I was losing weight, but it turned out my sweatpants had come untied during the night.

 _Shit. Too many Tastykakes,_ I'd thought.

I had slid out of my clothes and stood under the shower until it ran cold, realizing too late I was out of conditioner.

 _Damn, so much for the hair._

That's how my day started. It went downhill from there.

I am a bond enforcement agent for my cousin Vinnie's bail bonds agency, Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. The official sounding title didn't suit me at all. Bond enforcement agent is a fancy title for bounty hunter, and most days, I was a total failure in that department.

I had finished my day doing BEA work and had finally arrived home. It was after 8 PM, and I was starving. I'd had dinner plans with my boyfriend Joe, but we got into a fight that resulted in our most recent breakup in our on-again, off again relationship.

We'd been cohabitating for more than three months, so returning home was going to be a bitch. I'd gotten used to regular sex, someone else doing the dishes, and having coffee brought to my bedside in the morning. _Hello, single life,_ I thought.

Joe and I had been trying to make it work for years. He's someone I couldn't help but love. Even though we couldn't make it work out, the sexual longing and desire to make it work out between us continued to drive us back together time and time again. Every effort to make us work was futile though, ending in four letter words, arm waving, Italian hand gestures, and me moving back into my own apartment.

I shoved my apartment key into the door unceremoniously, balancing a laundry basket containing clothes and Rex's aquarium on my knee against the door. I felt my way into my one bedroom, one bathroom 1960s era apartment in the dark having no spare hand to flip the light switch. I kicked the door closed behind me.

I set the laundry basket on the counter and lifted Rex's aquarium out, setting it on the countertop.

"Sorry you're a single parent hamster again," I apologized to Rex, digging into the cupboard to find something to feed him. I'd left his carrots and raisins in Morelli's fridge. I finally came up with half a sleeve of Ritz crackers, setting one into his food bowl.

"It's for the best," I told Rex, trying to convince myself more than him that leaving Joe was a good life choice. "Really."

I saw Rex scurry out of his soup can in the pale orange light sifting into my apartment from the parking lot lights, twitched his whiskers at me in thanks, and scurried back in, taking the cracker with him.

I turned on my heel to switch on the lights and was momentarily stunned when I ran into a massive, muscled man.

My blood ran cold, and I shrieked. Fight or flight mode kicked in, and my body chose fight. I cried out and went at him with my fingernails, making contact with skin.

In response, the man wrapped me in his arms and held my feet two inches off the ground. I struggled, but couldn't move. I cried out again, hoping someone would hear me and call for help.

He spoke to me in a calm, collected voice.

"Babe."

It was Ranger.

"Shit, sorry!" I exclaimed, going limp in his arms. "Jeez Louise, you scared the bejesus out of me."

Ranger was my friend, mentor, sometimes employer, and occasional lover. More often than not, he was also my protector and body guard. Even though I'd known him for years, he was still the man of mystery. Ranger was six feet of lean, hard muscle. His dark hair was long enough to run your fingers through, and his brown eyes were like molten chocolate.

Ranger set me on my feet and crossed to the bank of switches on the far wall, turning on lights in the kitchen, foyer, and living room.

Ranger was wearing black cargo pants, a black short-sleeved t-shirt that had been painted across his chest, black Vibram sole boots, and a utility belt that housed a Glock, pepper spray, and cuffs. Claw marks riddled his mocha latte skin, a single trickle of blood oozing down his arm.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I said again. I ripped some paper towels off the paper towel dispenser and crossed to him, holding pressure to his bleeding arm.

"I shouldn't have snuck up on you," he said. "I didn't realize you were in feral cat mode tonight."

He took his eyes off his arm and studied me for a long moment, taking in the sight before him. His expression was hard to read, but I assume it fell somewhere between _Oh shit_ and _What the Hell._

I was a disaster. My hair was frizzed out to twice its normal size, no thanks to my bargain bin shampoo and lack of conditioner. I really needed to go see Mr. Alexander for a hair fix, but that required time and money. A girl can dream.

Not only was my hair bad, I was covered in food-pizza sauce, beer, salad dressing, and pasta sauce. My jeans and girly cut t-shirt were trashed, all courtesy of Eddie Shihalnek. I was pretty sure I had a pepperoni in my hair too.

Eddie was a skip I had chased through Roberto's Pizza Pit this afternoon. He had failed to appear for his court date after being arrested for DUI. I managed to haul him back to the clink, but not before wearing the meals of half of Roberto's lunch crowd. Apparently apprehending the geriatric crowd's favorite waiter at Roberto's wasn't a nice thing to do, my clothes serving as a testament to its unpopularity. The check Connie gave me was barely grocery money, but since I wasn't living with Joe anymore, grocery money was a necessity.

To top off my hair and clothes disaster, my face was red, splotchy, and tear-streaked after my drive home from Morelli's. My tears were a combination of anger and sadness. I was sad because I really did care about Morelli. I was angry because Morelli was incapable of respecting my career choice. Before I had a body receipt in hand for Shihalnek, Joe had heard the story of my latest takedown. He blew a gasket when he got home from work, which resulted in our relationship's untimely demise.

 **"** Babe," Ranger said quietly.

"I know," I said. "I'm a disaster."

"Are you alright?" he asked, closing the distance between us. He brought his hand to my face and tucked a stray curl behind my ear. He pulled a pepperoni out of my hair and tossed it into the garbage.

Our eyes met, and the intensity was too much. I studied my shoes.

"I'm fine," I said a little too quickly. "Takedown gone wrong," I added in explanation.

"You got your man. It didn't go wrong," Ranger said, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "You took the scenic route."

I heaved a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms over my chest.

He placed his finger under my chin, lifting my eyes to his.

"Don't be ashamed of who you are, babe. That's your parents' job," he joked.

Ranger always had more faith in me than I had in myself. I appreciated the vote of confidence, but I wasn't in the mood tonight.

"I need a shower. Can I have a minute?"

"Take all the time you need," he said in a warm, sexy voice. "I'll be here when you get out."

His lips connected with mine, locking me into an earth-shattering kiss. I felt electricity shoot from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes, coming to rest low in my belly. The electricity was followed by good, old fashioned Catholic guilt.

I had just broke up with Joe. It was wrong to lust after another man. What was wrong with me?

I pulled away and turned my back, running into the bathroom and locking the door behind me before Ranger could invite himself to the party. I had no illusions the lock would keep him out, but he respected my right to choose. Ranger would never force himself in on me.

I stripped out of my trashed clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom floor. I turned on the water in the shower to get it hot, feeling relieved when I saw conditioner on the shower shelf. I may have been out at Morelli's, but I was set here. I didn't have the tools to fix my love life or my professional life, but I had what I needed to fix my hair. I picked a string of melted pizza cheese out of my hair, then climbed into the steaming hot shower.

I let the water run over my body, washing away the traces of my day with strawberry scented body wash. I managed to choke back most of the tears that threatened to fall, promising myself a good, old fashioned cry later. I lathered my hair twice with shampoo before layering it in conditioner to tame my curls. I rinsed my hair and body, then dried myself with a purple towel. I wrapped myself in the towel and did my hair thing, but I skipped the makeup thing. It was almost time for bed, and I didn't have the energy left for such frivolous things as mascara.

I exited the bathroom, making a beeline for my bedroom. I stopped short in the door frame and crossed my arms over my chest.

Ranger was sprawled in the center of my bed. His utility belt was lying in a pile on the floor with his boots and socks beside it. His arms were behind his head, and he wore a smirk.

"Pretty," he said, acknowledging my nearly-naked body.

"Comfortable?" I asked him, crossing to my dresser. I yanked out a pair of lavender bikini panties and a black sports bra. In the next drawer, I pulled out a black racerback tank and a pair of hot pink Nike shorts. I dumped the clothes on the bed and gave Ranger a glare.

"I won't look," he said, closing his eyes.

My eyes rolled back so far in my head I'm pretty sure I saw my brain.

"Yeah. Right."

I did some mental knuckle cracking. Realistically, Ranger had seen me naked before. No biggie, right? On the other hand, I was concerned that once I dropped the towel, I'd jump him lying in my bed. I could take my clothes into the bathroom to change, but that seemed like a lot of effort for no tangible reward.

I decided to take my chances, and I dropped my towel.

I glanced at Ranger, and he was staring at me.

"Damn it!" I shouted, stomping my foot. "You said you wouldn't look!"

"I lied," he responded, a smile playing at his lips. His eyes wandered from my face down the length of my body before connecting with my eyes again. "Nice," he said, crooking his finger at me.

"I think I'll pass," I said, feeling indignant.

I stuffed my body into my clothes and stood at the foot of my bed, arms crossed across my chest.

"So, what can I do for you tonight, Batman? To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"I heard about Shihalnek," he said. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

I stood in silence for a moment, perplexed. This was the conundrum that was my life.

On one hand, I had a gorgeous, Cuban sex god that lusted after my body just as I lusted after his. The love we made was animalistic, raw and hot. Ranger had once joked that he'd ruin me for all other men. If I'm being honest, he wasn't wrong. He could do things to my body I'd never dreamed. He was fiercely loyal and selfless, and he believed in me no matter how deep the water got that I happened to be standing in. And he stopped by tonight to check on me, because he was concerned for my emotional well-being.

On the other hand, I had a man who, too, was gorgeous. He was nearly six feet of Italian libido, toned muscle, and dark, wavy hair. I'd known him my whole life. Hell, I'd lost my virginity to him. Things with Joe were always comfortable. Cohabitation was easy, and the love we shared was easier. We ate the same food, shared the same values, and watched the same TV. However, the state of my emotional well-being with Joe was in question more often than it should be in a committed, loving relationship. Joe hated my job. He'd regularly show up to the scene of my latest misfortune to shout and wave his arms. Rather than wrapping me in his arms to kiss the bad away, he'd scold me for whatever calamity I'd caused and attempt to shame me down a new career path. My refusal to give up my job caused breakup after breakup, and honestly, I was tired of it.

I realized Ranger was staring.

"I smell hair burning, babe. You okay?"

I sighed, deciding honesty was the best policy with Ranger. He could read me like a street sign, and I figured the consequences of lying weren't fun.

"Joe was pissed that I trashed Roberto's today," I admitted, spitting out words slowly. Deliberately. "He thinks maybe my career is a deal breaker, and that we should see other people."

The line of Ranger's lips tightened, but I couldn't sense his mood. I crossed the room to sit in an upholstered chair, dumping dirty clothes onto the floor before plopping down.

"Contrary to popular belief, you're not a disaster, babe," Ranger said in a velvety voice.

I could feel the lump forming in my throat. Ranger always showed up in time to build me back up, to restore the confidence Morelli shredded with his unkind words and aggressive demeanor.

"Good relationships do not just happen, babe. They take time. Patience. Healthy, loving relationships take two people who truly want to be together," Ranger said in a serious tone. "Your relationship with Morelli isn't my business, but his actions aren't the actions of an honorable man with honorable intentions."

I couldn't hold the tears back anymore. A rogue tear slid down my cheek, followed by another and another. I choked sob escaped my throat. I didn't want to admit it out loud, but what Ranger was saying sounded right.

He pulled himself into a seated position, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed so he was facing me.

"Morelli is an idiot to back off with you," he said, getting to his feet. He closed the distance between us, and he brushed the tears away.

I gave him a questioning look, and the corner of his mouth tipped up slightly.

"He's giving me an opportunity," Ranger said.

Ranger had once admitted to me that he was an opportunist. He always snuck kisses in the alley by the bonds office when he could, but when I was cohabitating with Morelli, he respected our relationship. He didn't try to get into my bed or my heart. He gave Joe the benefit of the doubt, constantly pushing me back to Joe when I strayed. Problem was, Ranger had been in my heart for a long time.

Ranger wrapped his arms around my waist to pull me close. My heartrate increased, nearing stroke level.

From where Ranger was sitting, he saw he had an opportunity now. Who was I to deny him?

He stared down at me, his face filled with an unnamed emotion. Happiness, maybe? Sadness? Affection? Love?

His stare was burning into my heart, asking for permission.

I gave a barely perceptible nod, and his lips crashed down onto mine. Our tongues danced together as my fingers curled into his shirt.

Somewhere in the distant reaches of my brain, I knew this wasn't a good idea. Ranger wasn't programmed like normal people. He didn't do relationships, and his life wasn't on a normal trajectory. I knew if I continued to allow this romantic attachment to persist, it wound end in certain heartbreak.

I slammed the door on the rational voice in my brain, allowing myself to feel rather than think.

I broke from the kiss and tugged Ranger's shirt over his head. I wrapped my arms around his neck, grinding my body into his. I could feel his body quickening.

I may hate myself in the morning, but I'm going to love him tonight.


End file.
